


Whoever you are

by MaryBarrens



Series: Merlin Translations [8]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Crossdressing, First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 10:35:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14747213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryBarrens/pseuds/MaryBarrens
Summary: Martha isn´t the most beautiful girl Arthur´s ever met.Arthur can´t stop looking at her.





	Whoever you are

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Whoever you are](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9520982) by [MaryBarrens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryBarrens/pseuds/MaryBarrens). 



Martha is not the most beautiful girl Arthur´s ever met. 

She´s too tall for a girl from the countryside, just as tall as Arthur is. She´s strong enough to carry all the buckets of the warm water for Arthur´s bath, completely without help. Her body is a little too angular, without the girly curves. She wears a stupid old neckerchief she refuses to part with, even if Arthur´s offered her a new one instead on number of occasions. She resembles Morgana a little – all the dark hair and pale skin – but she lacks Morgana´s elegance. She has no gracefulness, no subtlety. She´s awkward, clumsy. She stumbles over her own two feet, knocks things down, moves like she doesn´t feel comfortable in her own skin. 

But her hair is soft and smooth, as he´s found out when he was helping her to untangle a little twig from them. Her skin is milky white and perfect and Arthur wants to press his mouth to her cheek or somewhere high on her neck, wants to breathe her in. Her eyes are deep blue, sparkling with amusement every time she makes fun of him, her lips beg to be kissed. 

Arthur can´t stop looking at her. 

He would like to know what was his father thinking when he´s decided a service to Arthur was a suitable reward for someone who´s just saved the prince´s life. What was he thinking about when he´s given her to Arthur. 

„What brings a girl like you to Camelot?“ he asked her once. 

Martha hesitated for a moment. Maybe she wanted to say she´d came to Camelot to study with Gaius, maybe she´d had some plans for her future, something that wasn´t serving Arthur. „It´s not difficult for a girl to find some work here,“ she said quietly in the end. 

Arthur catched himself not listening, too absorbed by the strange tone in her voice, too absorbed by staring at her lips, pink and full. 

Martha is always by his side, like no one has ever been. She is in his chambers when Arthur wakes up. She´s just on the other side of his bedchamber when Arthur tries to hide his morning arousal, just a step behind him when he gets up to go to the training. She buckles up his armor, takes care of his weapons, cares for him when he´s sick or injured. She encourages him when he isn´t sure about something. She dresses him, her palms just a little too big no his body, but her fingers long and elegant when she smoothes down the expensive fabric of his cloak over his shoulders, her every movement careful but sure. Arthur wants her to never stop touching him. He wants to undress her like she undresses him every night, while he´s bitting his lip. He wants to touch her skin, to find out if it´s really as soft as it looks, he wants… Arthur _wants_.

Arthur´s never been in the habit of abusing the servants and he´s not going to start now. But Martha looks at him too, she wants him just as much as Arthur wants her. Arthur can see it in the flush of her cheeks when he asks her to wash his back, in the way she turns away when Arthur speaks with any of the court ladies, in the fire in her eyes when she follows him to a battle even though she´s been forbidden to do it. 

Arthur just wants to kiss her, really, when he doesn´t bid her a good night one evening, but takes her wrist and presses her to a wall instead. He just wants to kiss her, just to taste her, to find out if her mouth really is as soft as he´s always thought. He´s pressing her to the wall, his fingers tight around her wrist, and he´s just watching her because Martha may reject him – and he would let her go, of course, he would let her be and probably hate himself for assuming –

But Martha doesn´t push him away. She stares at him, her eyes blown wide, she soesn´t try to get away from him. 

„Martha?“ murmurs Arthur and presses closer to her. Her scent, the simple mixture of salt and herbs and something else Arthur can´t put his finger on makes his head spin. He swallows, eager, but still hesitant, because if Martha rejects him now, he may lose everything. 

Her breathing deepens and Arthur grasps her shoulder, so well known gesture, before he slides his hand higher, to touch her face. Her skin is soft and warm and he turns her face to himself, softly presses his lips to Martha´s. 

Martha inhales sharply and squeezes his arms, just below his shoulders, her grip so hard she digs her fingernails in. But she doesn´t push him away. Instead, she parts her lips for him, with quiet, broken moan. 

Arthur shivers and finally lets go of her wrist, to push his fingers through her hair and pull her closer. He deepens the kiss and Martha responds enthusiastically, her mouth hot and pliant, her breathing quick. She´s not very experienced, obviously, a little clumsy, but oh so eager. Her hand slides down over his hip to sneak under his tunic, to find some skin, and her nails are sharp. Arthur knows he´s gonna get scratches, but he doesn´t care. He wants to keep her forever, to never let her go, because Martha has always been there for him, and he´s never wanted anyone as much as he wants her. 

It´s Martha who ends the kiss reluctantly. Arthur laughs breathlessly and touches his forehead to her cheek. Her skin is hot to touch and Arthur kisses her jaw and then continues planting soft little kisses up her face, until he gets just under one of those ridiculously big ears. He paints a small, wet circle there, with his tongue, and she shivers under his touch. 

She pushes him away this time, her palms on his shoulders. Just a step, only enough to make Arthur stop kissing her skin. 

„What –“ murmurs Arthur in confusion, but he takes a step back. 

„Arthur,“ Martha bits her lip. „I´m not… not…“ She seems mournful for a moment and looks away from him. 

Arthur fits his palm to her face. „Are you alright?“ he asks quietly. 

Martha is watching him with tears in her eyes and it´s like a stab to Arthur´s heart. Is it that she doesn´t want him? Could he make such a mistake? He was so sure Martha wanted him, so sure when she would touch him accidentally while dressing him, so sure when she was returning his kisses right now, when she pressed herself closer to his body. He was sure, he still is. 

Maybe it´s something else, maybe _someone_ else. But Martha has never talked about anyone, she´s never made him think she was interested in anyone. 

„Arthur,“ says Martha again and blinks rapidly to keep the tears at bay. Arthur wants to take her in his arm, tell her it´s going to be alright, that everything´s fine, that he´s here for her. It´s more than just a night for him, so much more. He will never leave her if she wants him to stay. 

„It´s alright, Martha,“ says Arthur gently and pushes the hair out of her eyes softly, trying to soothe her even as he himself is aroused. 

But the girl shakes her head. „No,“ she says softly and smiles apologeticly. And then she takes his hand and presses it between her thighs. 

Arthur blinks at her and he doesn´t understand until – oh. _Oh_.

„Merlin,“ whispers Martha and Arthur tears his gaze away from his own hand. He looks up to see her face. She looks scared. „My name is Merlin.“ 

Arthur opens his mouth slightly and a long deep sigh forces itself out. He swallows. But he doesn´t pull way from her. 

His heart is beating wildly and he can hardly breathe, but he doesn´t pull away, because he thinks he´s always known, deep down. That Martha is different from other girls. And she is – Arthur can feel it under his fingers, but it doesn´t matter, because Arthur wants the boy standing in front of him just as much as he wanted him a few moments ago when he thought he was a girl. This doesn´t change anything, so Arthur doesn´t pull away, his palm still between Merlin´s legs. He presses against him instead and touches his lips to the boy´s cheekbone. 

„I don´t care,“ he breathes into Merlin´s skin and the boy moans, running his fingers through Arthur´s hair to drag him in to kiss him. Arthur closes his eyes and lets him, blindly searching for his mouth. 

Merlin melts against him, eager and passionate as he returns Arthur´s kisses, like he doesn´t ever want to stop. His body´s hot in Arthur´s arms, and he´s pressing himself to Arthur, spreading his legs a little to allow Arthur closer, and Arthur can push his hips into Merlin´s groin, aroused just as much as the boy in front of him. „Please,“ says Merlin in between kisses, his voice hoarse and surprisingly deep, not at all like the girl Arthur knew him as. He runs his palms over Arthur´s back, all the way down to slide the tips of his fingers under Arthur´s tunic again. His touches are as light as a feather. „Arthur, _please_.“

Arthur stops kissing him for a moment, to just look at him and Merlin holds his gaze, his lashes still wet from the tears, his eyes red rimmed but shining. His cheeks are darkened with arousal, lips slightly open, chest heaving. Arthur can´t stop looking at him, his throat tight. 

„Alright,“ he murmurs distractedly and nods. He runs his fingers over Merlin´s face, from his forehead and over the absurdly high cheekbones to his chin, just to get back up after, to Merlin´s lips and Merlin opens his mouth and sucks one of his fingers in. The corner of his mouth turn up, just a hint of a smile. Arthur gulps. 

„Okay,“ he say huskily and swallows. Then he slides down to his knees, kneeling before Merlin, on the stone hard floor of his chambers, and buries his face in Merlin´s skirt, to press cheek against the burning hardness hidden underneath all that dark fabric. He hitches the skirt up to Merlin´s waist without thinking, because he wants to see, wants to _touch_ , and down there Merlin´s smell is salty and undeniably male and Arthur´s throat goes dry. He leans forward slowly and nuzzles the hot skin with the tip of his nose, to tease a little. 

Merlin makes a soft noise that sounds almost like a sob and he tilts his head back so sharply he bangs it into a wall. But he doesn´t even notice, just clenches his hand in the fabric of his skirt and reaches out with the other to fumble for Arthur´s shoulder. 

Arthur growls contentedly, his palms on Merlin´s hips, and Merlin starts to tremble. His knees are weak, just barely holding him up, his breathing hard. „I won´t leave you,“ he murmurs, when Arthur leans forward again, to touch him with his mouth. „I will never want to leave, you know? You will never get rid of me.“ 

Arthur laughs shakily and squeezes his hips more firmly. „Good,“ he mutters against Merlin, smiling a little. „That´s great.“ 


End file.
